


Play With Me

by StarlingHawke (Bowm8935)



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Laskdjflaskdjf, Teasing, blowjob, i dunno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-25 16:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13838529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowm8935/pseuds/StarlingHawke
Summary: You’ve been hearing for a few days that you’rehis toy- so when is he going to play with you?





	1. Chapter 1

The last time you’d seen those piercing green eyes, you’d been scared for your life.

Every time Saeran visits you things get more intense. Not just in the way he spits words at you like you’re a vile bug that deserves to be squished underfoot, or how his stupidly handsome face contorts, nose wrinkled as he complains about your ‘stink’. No, it goes much deeper than that. Your legs shake and your body trembles whenever he pins you to the wall, but it’s not only fear causing the uncontrollable movements. Oh you’re frightened, there’s no question but the increasing heat between your legs always whispers of something _else_.

The way your skin burns when he touches you - but not unpleasantly so. The excitement that skitters across your skin, pulling it up into goosebumps as his breath hits your cheek, your ear, your lips. This man who wears the body of someone you’d fallen head over heels for in a matter of _hours_ , whose very presence causes sirens to go off internally, glaring red lights illuminating the word ‘DANGER!’ scribbled hastily across the chalkboard of your mind. Somehow managing to simultaneously make you want to beg for your life and beg to be his toy, for him to use you.

This last time he’d thrown you to the ground and crawled on top of you, a sneer on his face as his hands closed around your throat. Your head still aches from where it connected with the floor and you’re very well aware of the bruises lining your neck, little bits of proof of how dangerous he is when enraged. You don’t doubt that he’s perfectly capable of ending your life.

And yet… and yet. There’s something there, hidden underneath the crazy, high-pitched laughter and mocking words that catch your attention. With vitriol he’ll snarl at you that Ray is dead and gone, that he’ll never come back and at times you’re inclined to believe it. And yet… you occasionally catch a slip of the mask, when his anger or bitterness cracks and the hurt and uncertainty peeks through. Self-doubt oozing from his pores as he quickly gathers the pieces of his costume back up and fixes them in place, turning once more into the thoroughly terrifying person he claims is truly who he is.

By now you’ve had enough time to come to a decision on what your next move will be. You’re stuck here regardless of your choice, that much has been made clear; if you live, you’ll be in Mint Eye for however long they choose to let you remain breathing. If not, well, you’ll be dead so it hardly matters. Waiting for Ray to come back to you has been fruitless and has forced you to acknowledge your own budding desires involving the other side of him.

So while you jump in surprise when the door slams open to emit a fuming Saeran, you stand your ground even as he stalks up to you. He isn’t much taller than you - maybe only an inch or two - but the way he holds himself has always made it feel as though he’s towering over you threateningly. Instead of cowering like before, this time when he draws near and puffs himself up, you simply force your shoulders back and straighten your posture, raising yourself up to meet him. His eyes pierce you like lasers, lip curled into a sneer as he gets up in your space. In a split second decision you turn from him to stroll lazily over to the loveseat, dropping down in as carefree of a manner as you can manage.

The look on his face is worth it. For the briefest of moments, doubt flickers in those eyes before they harden, narrowing on you. “Just like the fucking princess you think you are, all high and mighty as you go to sit on your throne without a care in the world,” he spits, hands clenched into fists. “Haven’t you learned that you’re nothing more than a _toy_ for me to play with?”

This is it. This is the moment you’ve been banking on, but you still hesitate a moment as your eyes land on the open door. Well. Nothing to be done about that now. “You keep saying that,” you respond, making sure to culture a disappointed tone as you speak, amused by the confusion that crosses his face.“But I have yet to be played with.” Shifting on the cushion, you catch the hem of your laced skirt with a fingernail and slide it up your thigh, just enough to reveal a tantalizing peek of unexplored flesh. A thrill runs through you as the movement catches his eyes and he stares, a light red dusting across his cheeks. How cute he looks in this moment, like a boy glimpsing upon a naked body for the first time. And who knows, maybe this would be his first but as you rub your shoulder delicately across the fabric behind you to cause your wide neckline to fall just slightly off your shoulder, you’re not particularly inclined to care.

The chain connecting the collar of his jacket makes the smallest of sounds as his chest heaves in breaths, the red flushing deeper yet and you can’t help but wonder if that blush travels down to his chest or not. Maybe you’ll find out sometime. “What are you doing?” he asks in a low voice, eyes fixed on the part of your collarbone that’s now visible. An undertone of danger still flows in those words but it makes you shiver in welcome, for as the air begins to thicken and become charged in the room, you know it’s not the same kind as before.

It’s a kind of danger you’re more than willing to put yourself in.

“Play with me.” Thrusting your lower lip out, the pout you turn upon him has turned many odds in your favor in the past though you’ve never tried it out in quite this manner before. “If I’m your toy, then use me like one. I promise I can be rather _fun_.” The confusion and mild innocence you’d shown in the past only ever seemed to infuriate this side of him, to make Saeran’s lip curl and his eyes fill with hatred so this time you’re throwing it to the side entirely. If he would prefer someone who admits their place in his world, then so be it. Might as well make it enjoyable for yourself as well.

“What makes you think I _want_ to play with you?” Despite the way he sneers as he speaks he takes a few steps closer to you, his eyes trailing over your body hungrily. Yes, yes, that’s it; take the offering, it’s all you have to give.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Crossing your legs, you purposefully smooth your skirt back out, carefully fixing it so that it’s back at an appropriate length again. Disappointment flashes for a moment before he reels it back in, intense gaze snapping up to meet yours. “You said you’re bored and that I needed to be more entertaining. But,” with a sigh, you grab your shirt and tug it back into place as well before placing your hands daintily in your lap, “I guess I was wrong in thinking you’d be more aggressive than Ray.” Aha, there it is, another step forward and a challenge rising on his face. “Ray ran from a kiss and with how you keep talking yourself up, I thought you’d swoop in and claim what was rightfully yours, but I guess not.” Tilting your head down to look up at him from under the soft bangs of your hair, you smirk victoriously, knowing you’ve won. “Guess you’re just as scared as he is.”

In the span between heartbeats he’s in front of you, one hand against the back of the chair while the other cups your chin, squeezing your cheeks. Narrow eyes darkened with desire survey your face while a knee forcefully parts your legs, sliding up to press into your heat. Inhaling quickly in surprise, both your heart rate and breathing quicken; he’s so close, you can smell the musky scent of him. “I’m not so easily manipulated,” he growls, forcing your chin up as he grips your jaw hard enough to be painful. “And I’m not _your_ toy.”

Then his lips are upon yours, all fire and anger and passion, clumsy but determined. Rough patches graze against your own from where he’s bitten them raw, and for how bruisingly hard the kiss is, you can only spare a moment to consider how much they must hurt right now. Releasing your chin, that hand quickly snakes around to the back of your head where it tangles in hair, bringing you even closer still as he begins to bite and lick roughly.

It’s hot. You tremble under him, feeling dampness between to grow against your panties and his leg. Right as you bring up your hands to try to grab his jacket he yanks back, lips shimmering with saliva as he wipes them against the back of his hand. His pupils are blown wide as he stares at you lustfully and your heart skips a beat.

“You are _mine_ ,” he emphasizes, voice still low and husky. “Which means I decide when to play with you.”

And then he’s stalking out of the room, slamming the door shut hard enough that the paintings on the wall rattle, leaving you alone, panting and hopelessly turned on.

Mission failure. Or is it?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You asked, I (hopefully) delivered.

Harsh blue light casts an ethereal glow over the darkened room, elongated shadows joining their brethren in the corners to wait for their time to conquer. Near the front, surrounded by many monitors of different sizes, is a man with bleached hair, brows furrowed as his fingers play a game. Tap tap tap, pause. Tap, tap, tap, pause. Tap, tap, tap, pause. A frustrated groan before he madly strikes at the backspace key, deleting the single line of code that’s taken him nearly half an hour to write.

This is ridiculous.

Mint green eyes flick over to the monitor in the top right corner, the cctv footage steadily rolling. His lip curls into a sneer when he finds you sitting in a chair, legs pulled up against your chest as you scroll through your phone. The audacity of it, of the casual way you continue to go about your business as though your very life weren’t in danger of being snuffed out by him at a moment’s notice. The level of fear he had inspired in you in his first few appearances seems to be dwindling every passing minute, much to his annoyance and confusion. What has changed?

The last time he’d visited you’d been far bolder than he could ever recall you being, even with Ray. It had caught him by surprise, igniting a fire within him he wasn’t even aware could burn.

It won’t happen again. Not unless it’s on _his_ terms instead of yours.

Everything about you puts him off. Your ugly face, the stupid way you speak, the unpleasant odor you emit. Whereas Ray had adored every aspect about his princess, Saeran despises it. Someone so unworthy in paradise is a sin in and of itself, and the very fact that you’ve been allowed to exist this long here is an affront to the Savior’s purity. No doubt it was the doing of the sniveling coward, begging and pleading and _promising_ results as long as you were allowed to stay.

In the end it had been his undoing.

But you won’t be Saeran’s undoing. Oh no, he’ll never allow that. Too long he’d waited to regain control of his body and prove his strength to allow you to ruin everything with a pout of your lips. The strongest believer will not fall to temptation and will not be led astray by an airhead like you. His loyalty is only bestowed upon the most worthy of people, those who have proven to be by his side and not abandon him no matter how wrong he was born. That is most certainly _not_ you.

So why is it that no matter how much he tries, he can’t focus on his work? The image of your pale skin ghosts in front of the computer screens, giving the numbers a haze that makes them hard to decipher. Your collarbone, sharp and inviting, flashes through his mind on a loop, causing his fingers to twitch with the desire to touch and consequently press the wrong keys. And that voice, lower than normal, full of a dark promise that had almost drawn him in right then and there…

Curse you and your witchcraft.

Saeran grabs the plastic bottle filled with water near him and chucks it as hard as he can at the wall behind him, anger spilling through him, flooding his veins like hot lava. The thunk of it is loud but not nearly as satisfying as he had hoped; glass would’ve been better. To hear it shatter the way he wants to shatter your stupid face. How dare you do this to him! Twining his fingers into his hair, he tugs hard enough to feel pain rocket through his nerves and he laughs, high-pitched and uneven. Oh, you’ll pay for this. Playing with Ray is one thing, but play with _him_ and you’ll get burned by his fire. You made a mistake seeping into his mind and he is going to make sure you are _thoroughly_ punished for that.

The wheels on the chair squeal in protest as he places his feet on the desk and kicks with all of his might, rolling across the hardwood floor only to jump out before it smacks into the unused sofa. Landing on his feet with dexterity born from practice, he sweeps his jacket off where he’d left it hanging over the arm of it while sliding his feet into his shoes. He pauses a moment to carefully slip the jacket on and hook the delicate chain that dangles at his neck, connecting one side of the collar to the other. A hand brushes through his likely messy hair and then the door flies open as he storms down the hallway, not even bothering to shut it. No one ever goes in there but him and the Savior; no one dares to.

The harried state that overtakes each believer he passes when he turns his eyes to them is electrifying; this feeling of power is addictive. Only one person resides in Magenta with more command than him, and that is his Savior. He will gladly bow down to her and let her rule over him, rule over them all. Only she is pure enough to lead the parched to the waters of paradise, only she can save those the world has betrayed and broken.

The hallways all look the same here; it would be easy to get lost if not for the pictures hung on walls. Beautiful, raw, they capture nature in some of its most tumultuous states; the beach during a storm, waves pounding upon the sand. Trees bending to the will of the wind as it shrieks over the land, tearing up whatever is not strong enough to stand against it only to cast it aside. A fire ravaging a house, sweeping through to turn everything to ash so that it can grow anew.

Most were taken by the Savior herself when she traveled with the Traitor, many years ago. Where he saw the light in life, she saw the darkness. Like yin and yang they circled each other for years before the Traitor decided to shine too bright and attempt to extinguish the shadows that lied within.

A foolish decision, but one that led to the birth of Magenta and Mint Eye, so despite his acute hatred toward him Saeran cannot find it within himself to mourn it.

Every step he takes causes his fury to increase as his mind races with multiple different ways to punish you. Should he starve you? Chain you to the bed and refuse to let you up until you behave? Or there’s the possibility of the dungeon downstairs where he could lock you up or take you into the room that has all sorts of fun instruments to play with…

He’ll decide when he sees your face and determines how much vitriol you invoke from him today. If you’re a good toy, maybe your punishment will be less… severe. Conversely, if you’re bad, then he will not hold anything back

Up the stairs and through a door and he’s in your hallway, the one he told you were free to wander. The entire floor, actually; as though such an imbecile deserves this type of liberty. That was one of the first things to go when he got rid of that marshmallow, stripping you of the ability to explore as you please. Nope, now you’re confined to that single room, guarded by two of his favorite believers. They bow lowly at his approach and step to the sides, revealing the large, hideously decorated French doors. It hurts his eyes just to _look_ at them; the pastel pink background and floral overlay just the beginning of the eyesore of the room Ray decorated.

Whereas last time he’d thrown open the doors in anticipation of the sight of you cowing, this time he halts just in front, raising a fist to rap at the wood sharply. Maybe switching up the stakes will also change the results; though with how stupidly courageous you were last time, he doubts you’ll be any less daring.

Oh well. That’s your mistake, then.

The pause between his knock and the soft creak of hinges is too large for his liking. Are you being lazy, or maybe not think he’s serious? Once your face is visible, a curious yet wary expression present as you realize it’s him, he thrusts his hand through, palm connecting against your sternum with a firm push, shoving you back out of his way.

“What have you done to me?” The way you stumble backwards is satisfying, though not nearly enough. The sound of your feet shuffling against the floor, the soft gasp of surprise, your arms pinwheeling until you catch your balance. No, he didn’t want you to remain standing. He enters the room without another sound except for the clicking of the door behind him, stalking forward like a predator, eyes gleaming. “What have you fucking done to me?” The way your eyes widen as he approaches again, fear finally welling up in them and the tiniest quiver of your bottom lip gives him life. Once more his hand falls on your chest, but this time he uses all of his strength to thrust you away from him.

One, two, three steps before your squeal fills the room and you tumble to the floor, landing on your ass with a pleasing thunk. Good. That’s where you belong.

The way you fell caused the hem of your short, black lace dress to flare up, revealing far more of your creamy thighs than he glimpsed last time. The sight causes his pulse to quicken and stomach to flip but he ignores both, striding forward to place his foot in the middle of your chest, the hard sole of his shoe pressing you down, down, down until you’re flat on the carpet. Hair haloed around your face is a stark contrast to the ugly paleness that you’re laying on; next to the atrocity Ray had chosen to cover the floor in, you’re actually rather pretty.

Not that it matters. He’s not here to appreciate your attractiveness, or the lack thereof. The increasing fear on your face, though; _that_ he can appreciate.

Hands slid into his pockets, Saeran leans just enough to sneer down at you, eyes narrowed dangerously. “You made a mistake getting into my head like that. You’re nothing more than a bug, useless and worthless to me and everyone else. Now… now I’m going to crush you with my heel, just like you deserve.”

But doing so with his shoes on takes some of the joy out of it. No, he wants to _feel_ you beneath him, the bones of your chest pressing against the pad of his foot as he slowly increases the amount of weight he puts on you. Not enough to kill you but the idea of maybe harming you enough you’d need medical attention is mildly tempting; perhaps he’s a little more sadist than he’d originally thought.

Then again, Ray, while also saddened, had thought you were quite pretty when you cried. So it’s probably not just this side of him.

“Stay.” It’s a short command, uttered with finality as he turns and kicks off his shoes, both of them for good measure. What is this new feeling settling in the pit of his stomach? Something about the way you are lying there seems to be riling him up, but in a completely different manner than what he’s used to. Maybe he’s just excited to get some joy from your useless existence.

When he returns his gaze to you you’re no longer laying on the floor. Instead he finds himself face to face with you, hair slightly mussed and a flush high on your cheeks as you raise your chin defiantly. “Have you finally come to play with me?”

Flames burst to life inside of him, driving him to jolt forward and pin you to the wall behind you, wrists held to each side of your head. A resounding crack cuts through the air as your head connects with the hideous floral wallpaper but you barely flinch; if anything, the charged look you give him indicates you _liked_ it. A shiver makes its way down his spine and for a split second his eyes lock onto your lips as your tongue slowly, temptingly traces them. The urge to press his own against yours rears its head and he forces himself to look away, refusing to give into it. No, that’s not punishment. You’ve made it plenty clear that’s what you want, and he is not giving into your desires.

“I think our versions of _play_ differ quite drastically,” he growls lowly, tightening his hold on your wrists. Does it hurt yet? Your face gives away nothing, so he grips even harder, hard enough to leave bruises.

That’s good. He’d liked seeing the ones around your neck from where he tried to strangle you. It was tangible proof that he owned you, that you were his and no one else’s. These can simply be the replacement. A strange sort of excitement floods through him at the idea of marking you again, and for the briefest of moments, he hesitates. Is he misreading his feelings entirely? No, that’s not possible. He _hates_ you, he _knows_ he does.

It’s during that short pause that you do something that catches him entirely off guard, leaning in to kiss him softly but firmly. Unyielding. It’s very similar to the one Ray had received in the gardens but something’s off. What is it? Why is this one different?

Is it because it makes those flames burn hot enough that it feels like he’s about to turn to ash? As your lips move against his, stubbornly attempting to draw him in, he feels something inside of him crumble. Emotional pain surges through him like a nerve exposed to air, sharp and unsettling. Are you breaking his walls down?

How dare you. How. Fucking. Dare. You.

With a guttural grunt he lurches forward, his body pressed against yours tightly, keeping you from moving. The kiss becomes aggressive, almost violent as he takes control, devouring everything you have to offer him. Each crash of lips is brusingly hard, each bite close to breaking skin. If you want to be played with, you will be played with his way. Punished so you never tempt him again. Dirty succubus. Maybe after this he’ll throw you away. It’s the least you deserve for this.

You struggle a little in his grasp, your wrists pushing back against him. What do you want your hands for? It doesn’t matter, he has no intentions of giving you that sort of control. Instead he pries your lips open with his tongue, thrusting it inside your hot mouth to slide against yours roughly. The soft sigh you emit is music to his ears, but not what he wants. This isn’t about your pleasure. It’s about his.

Again and again he drives his tongue past your lips, fucking your mouth while you shiver and sigh against the wall. Each sound and tremble shoots straight through him, gathering in his belly to drip down into his groin where he can feel another part of him coming to life. That’s interesting. He hadn’t expected his body to respond quite this way, however…

With a final bite that ends with him latching onto your lip and tugging on it until it slips out from between his teeth, his eyes meet your half-lidded ones. You’re panting, cheeks flushed an alluring rose pink and pupils blown wide as you gaze at him, unwavering in your challenge. Lips slightly swollen and shimmering with saliva tempting him to return to what he was just doing but no, he wants to hear something else.

Finally he lets go of your wrists, daring you to move with the slight raising of an eyebrow. Quivering, you don’t, not until he shoves off your pink, cropped jacket and lets it fall to the floor to pool around your ankles without a care. To his surprise and delight, your resume your position without any prompting. Good. You’re learning.

Your skin is soft beneath his touch as he lightly trails his fingers down the side of your neck, then across your collarbone. Soft and warm, a contrast to his cold hands. Goosebumps skitter over your skin in the wake of each movement, your chest heaving in gasping breaths. He’s barely doing anything to you, yet here you are, so worked up.

It’s almost the satisfaction he was looking for earlier. Almost, but not quite. What is it missing?

“So. My toy wants me to play with her,” he coos in a sickly-sweet tone, his other hand trailing up the inside of your thigh. You shudder, lips parting as you give a nod and gasping when he reaches the bottom of your dress. Instead of slipping under he veers to the side, following the hemline and grinning devilishly at your quiet whimper. “If you’ve learned anything by now, isn’t it that I’m going to do things _my_ way?”

Suddenly the hand on your chest is on top of your head and he’s shoving you down to land roughly on your knees. In an instant your arms are out at your side again, wobbling as you try to maintain balance (idiotic, since he has you right where he wants you), eyes wide in surprise. “You’re a waste of space, not even worthy of breathing in my presence, let alone the Savior’s.” The clink of metal draws your eyes to where he’s slowly undoing his belt, sliding it out from the loops at the top of his slacks. “An abomination in this, our paradise, unable to even do the one simple thing asked of you.” The belt thuds against the footboard of the bed as he tosses it to the side, fingers now popping the button and pulling down the zipper. “Useless, just like that faerie prince of yours, obsessing over flowers and the dream of _love.”_

A shiver tears through him when he finally hooks his fingers into the waistband and shoves down the slacks, the cool air caressing his half-hard dick. Depraved laughter spills from him as your eyes zero in on it, licking your lips as though he’s a sweet for you to devour. “Does the princess like what she sees? Am I _good enough_ for her royal highness?” Without giving you a chance to respond, he tangles one fist in your hair and yanks you forward without care, groaning at the delightful yelp you give. You still haven’t objected to anything he’s done; not even now as his free hand grasps his quickly hardening cock and traces your lips, teasing you and himself. A bolt of confusion strikes through him but he pushes it to the side, unwilling to settle on what it could mean. You’re his toy, that’s all you are.

And by the end of this, you’ll know that.

“Open,” he growls, glaring as your eyes flick up to meet his for a long, charged moment. Then your mouth is wide and he thrusts in without bothering to let you adjust to him. You sputter and cough and gag but don’t fight as he pulls back and thrusts forward again and again, each time gagging less and less until eventually you’re not at all.

A loud moan tears from his throat when he’s engulfed by the wet warmth your mouth provides; fuck, he’s never felt anything like this. He glides in and out so easily, your spit slicking his dick to move past your lips without trouble. At first your noises irritate him, annoying and disruptive but once you adjust you begin to hum and moan a little as though him fucking your face is pleasing _you._

“You dirty girl, you’ve done this before, haven’t you, yeah? How many dicks have you sucked?” Sneering, he laughs derisively as he picks up the pace, slamming into your mouth. He can feel the tip of his dick when it touches the back of your throat and he wonders if you’ll even be able to speak after this. Serves you right if you can’t. The little hums you let out send vibrations through him that snake their way up to settle with the white hot coil in his belly, winding it tighter and tighter. Your tongue begins to move, attempting to add to the pleasure coursing through him but he’s moving too fast and has no desire to slow down. The solution in your mind must be to increase suction because the next time he looks down your cheeks have hollowed and he’s getting startlingly close to finishing.

Usually it takes an annoying amount of time to jerk off when the need arises. Why is it building up so quickly this time? He wouldn’t complain except for the fact that he’s enjoying holding you like this, using you as the toy you were meant to be. Nothing more than a place for him to stick his cock when he wants to.

Leaning his torso forward, his palm rests against the wall to hold himself upright as he keeps going, keeps using you while you keep moaning around him. Tighter, tighter, tighter it winds in him until he’s seeing flashes of white and gold, hips stuttering for the briefest of moments before resuming their pace. Fuck, it’s never felt like this before; so hot as though it’s lava crashing over him instead of just an orgasm.

You’re gagging a little again. He glances down to see some of his seed dribbling out of the corner of your mouth and groans, surprised when more heat shoots through him. Once he feels himself starting to come down he steps back, releasing your hair and letting his dick slip out and snickering when you jerk forward to land on your hands. The once perfectly combed tresses are now messy and tangled and he smirks in triumph as he tucks himself in and grabs his belt, putting himself back together as though nothing happened.

“Was that what you had in mind?” he inquired as he squats in front of you, grabbing your chin to force you to look up at him. “Or maybe…” He stands, weaving his fingers into your hair once more, wrenching you to your feet. “This is what you wanted?” The same finger as earlier resumes its trail along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, this time moving up past the skirt of your dress until it reaches your panties.

Your considerably _wet_ panties.

“Look how wet you are,” he breathes, tracing the fabric lightly over your heat. You bite your lip and moan, eyelids fluttering shut as he repeats the teasing movement. “Soaked, and for me, of all people.” That stink of yours floods his senses when he bends forward, lips brushing you ear as he asks one single, important question: “Do you want me inside of you, princess?”

You nod and he plunges his fingers in through the fabric, dampness gathering on his fingertips even as your legs tremble beneath you. A long moment passes, his hand not moving no matter how much you squirm and buck your hips, whining needily.

He waits until you open your eyes and look at him before withdrawing them, taking care to wipe them off on the front of your likely expensive dress. “Too bad.” Face passive, he whips around and stalks over to the door, slamming it shut behind him as he exits without a single glance back.

He’s troubled by how much he’d wanted to finger-fuck you, how hard it had been to pull his fingers out without slipping them into his mouth to taste your essence. It’s sickening how much he wants to watch you come apart beneath him, to be the cause of you breaking into pieces with his name in your lips.

But you’re not worth his time.

And surely you know that now.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Did you love it? Did you... *gasp* hate it? Let me know! I'm always open for reviews, comments and helpful criticism.  
> I'm here to grow. :)
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr as [cutiesaeran](http://cutiesaeran.tumblr.com/) or twitter [@MysticHawke](https://twitter.com/MysticHawke/)!


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